Bond of Love
by Nightdew
Summary: Part 2 of The Handmaid of Gondor. While Elireth is now Legolas' friend and honoured guest in Ithilien, the strength of her feelings towards him threatens to put everything at risk.
1. Chapter 1

_This is the first sequel to The Handmaid of Gondor. I don't know how well it stands up to the original, but I hope you like it. Many thanks for all the great reviews I have had so far - my fictions are very happy in their new home!!_

Chapter 1

The golden bells chimed on the horse's harness, and the early summer breeze blew the dark hair of the rider about her face as she cantered over the flower-studded grass of Ithilien. Small she was, and slender, clothed in a gown of midnight blue, and there was a grace and subtlety in her movements which, along with her attire, caused many who met her to mistake her for an Elf, although there was no Elven blood in her. Beautiful, too, you would have called her, had your eyes not first lighted upon the regal and luminous figure who rode just ahead of her. For the mistress will always outshine the maid, and there was none in Middle-earth in that day to compare with Arwen Undomiel, the Evenstar of the Elves and the beloved Queen of Gondor. The maid who rode behind her was, of course, none other than Elireth daughter of Elbrin, formerly of the Healers. It was ten years since the day when she had knelt before Arwen at the gate of Minas Tirith, and she was now an accomplished lady-in-waiting, well versed in the lore and etiquette of both Men and Elves, well travelled throughout the realm of Aragorn II, fluent in three languages and tolerable in a fourth.

To this treasured handmaiden, Queen Arwen now turned her head and spoke in the language of her own people:

"The King and I ride now to Emyn Arnen. We will meet you in the Woods of Ithilien ten days hence. Send our love."

"I will, my Lady. Thank you," Elireth replied in the same language.

It was an arrangement now familiar to both. The King and Queen would ride to Emyn Arnen, the abode of Lord Faramir and Lady Eowyn, while Elireth would go ahead of them to the Woods of Ithilien, where Legolas now dwelt with his Woodland kindred from the North. For he had kept his word to her and many, many times in the past ten years had she been an honoured and most welcome guest among the Folk of the Wood.

However, it had now been six months since her last visit. Elireth was tired and fed up and in need of a break. She worked famously hard at court, too hard, some said. She was utterly devoted to her mistress and, unlike some of the lower maids, would tolerate no advances from members of the Guard, although she had not been short of offers over the years. Of course, she would not admit, even to herself, that her unrequited love affair was responsible for any of the strain she felt. If she did suffer periods of anxiety or irritability, she put it down to lingering after-effects of her illness during the time of Shadow. There were, after all, people who never fully recovered, and she could always persuade herself that she was one of them.

She rode now under the trees and into dense woodland, where she dismounted and led her horse, a beautiful Elven steed, the foal of the palfrey on which her mistress had first ridden into Gondor. Around and above her, she could hear the sound of sweet, strange singing. Many mortals, she knew, would have dismissed the sound as imagination and heard nothing more than the wind in the trees, but Elireth knew better and stopped at the foot of a large beech tree. A rope ladder was let down and she climbed nimbly up it. Seated on a flet at the top with their arms round their knees, were two Wood-Elves dressed in green and brown. This was the entrance to the Hidden Grove, the heart of the Ithilien Elf-colony, and from it Elireth could see the many and varied dwellings of the Elves, in trees and under trees, carved from the trees themselves, covered in leaves and leaf patterns, and glowing with summer flowers.

Elireth turned to the two Elves beside her.

"Where is Legolas today?" she said, trying to make the question sound as casual as possible.

But the Elves just laughed at her.

"Come, Mistress Elireth," they said. "We know you do not come to the Grove so often merely to pick the flowers."

Elireth blushed and smiled a little.

"He has gone to hunt," said one of the Elves. "We expect him very soon."

Even as he spoke, Elireth saw a familiar figure walking along the rope, which connected the tree in which she sat to the next one. Legolas seemed blissfully unconcerned by the height or narrowness of the path he walked, and indeed was looking backward to speak to another Elf as he came. In spite of herself, Elireth could not fail to be impressed. She had acquired many skills from the Elves over the years, but this one was quite beyond her.

"Elireth!" cried Legolas, cheerfully, as he reached her. "Well met under branch and leaf."

"Under cloud and sky be blessed," she replied. "The Great Ones of Gondor send their love and will meet with you ten days hence."

The Elf standing behind Legolas whispered something in his ear, and for a brief moment they conversed in hushed tones. Though Elireth did not intend to eavesdrop, she was almost certain the word _yrch_ was mentioned more than once.

"Your pardon, Elireth," said Legolas at last. "We do not mean to be discourteous, but Aragorn's counsel would be greatly appreciated at this time. However, let that not affect us today. We are most honoured to have you once again for our guest. Indeed, we would appreciated your counsel, too, on a certain matter."

"My counsel?" Elireth almost laughed.

"Certainly," Legolas smiled. "Do not underestimate yourself, daughter of Gondor."

Elireth felt a tingle run down her spine. Ten years on, and the look in those starlit eyes still captivated her utterly.

Legolas held out his hand to her. "Will you come and see what we have found?" he said. "It lies just beyond the walkway."

Elireth took the proffered hand with not a little trepidation, as Legolas stepped back onto the rope. One of the Elves from the flet took her other hand, and together they proceeded slowly through the tree- tops. Elireth knew the two Elves were in truth, virtually carrying her along – indeed, her feet barely touched the rope – and yet she still hardly dared open her eyes, not knowing whether it were more fearful to look down and see the ground so far away or to look up and see the leaves so near.

At length, however, the strange journey was over and Legolas and Elireth descended via another rope ladder into a small, sunlit clearing, leaving their companion to keep watch in the trees. The birds were singing in the branches and it was hard to believe the Shadow that had lain on the land only a decade previously.

"Here," said Legolas. "What do you make of this?"

Elireth looked on the forest floor and saw, growing in little clumps, a strange plant with leaves like lavender and tiny, rose-like flowers of red and white, a red and a white bloom coming from each stem.

"We have never seen such a plant before," said Legolas, "for it grows not in our Northern woodland, and never has it bloomed in Ithilien until this very summer. We thought that, as a native of these parts and one who has been trained in herb-lore, you might be able to identify it."

"I have seen it only once before," she said, "and that was not in living form but in the Warden's books of plant life. Its true name I have forgotten, but in the Common Tongue it is called Bond of Love. It is said that, where the bodies of Elves and Men fell together at the close of the Second Age, that Bond of Love grew over them as a sign of their alliance and mutual sacrifice. But when the Dark Lord again took abode in Mordor and all living things withered before his gates, then it vanished from Middle-earth. Its return to these lands must surely be a sign that the dark powers are ousted."

"I hope so," said Legolas, and Elireth remembered again the whispered conversation.

"There was a rhyme of lore that went with it too," said Elireth. "If only I could remember it. Those days in the Houses of Healing seem so distant now. _The Bond of Love, ye Elves and Men_… No, it's gone."

"No matter," said Legolas. "To me those days seem but a breath away, and your whole life as that of a summer flower, doomed to fade with the coming of the autumn rain."

He looked at her sadly, as if he would say more, but the moment passed and he sighed and turned to climb the ladder.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Close to midnight of the same day, when the stars could at last be clearly seen in the summer sky, the Wood-Elves of Ithilien were gathered in the centre of the Hidden Grove for the night of song which accompanied all their feasting. A fire was burning low, its small flames flickering in never-to-be-repeated patterns and around it the Elves were sitting or standing, as one or another would raise their voice in song. Elireth was seated between the roots of a large oak, in the place of honour beside Legolas. In ten years of visits to the Elves, she had just about learned to listen to the singing without falling asleep, for the gift of Elven minstrelsy was its ability to bring ballads to life in the imagination of its listeners in the form of visions or dreams and, for a mortal, to dream without sleeping is no easy feat. On her first ever visit, she had woken suddenly with her face in a pile of beechnuts to find all the Elves laughing at her. But now she sat on into the night, joining in the refrain of a song of Mirkwood, one of which Legolas himself was particularly fond:

_When your leaves are green,_

_I will walk again; I will walk again,_

_The blossoms white upon your boughs,_

_I will walk your beloved paths again._

The song was repeated many times and was followed by a lay of Doraith in the days to Thingol. At last, Elireth felt her head beginning to swim, as her mind was drawn ever deeper into the Thousand Caves. Usually, at this stage, she would creep away to one of the tree-root dwellings where she could fall asleep with dignity, blessing the Elven songs as an antidote to the insomnia, which still so often beset her. But tonight, Legolas had seemed more affable, more attentive than ever before. He had offered her a taste of wine from his own cup and, when her hair had fallen in front of her eyes, he had gently smoothed it back. She could not forget the look he had given her in the little clearing earlier that day. Perhaps the situation was not as impossible as it had at first seemed. Perhaps if she rested her head against his shoulder now, he would not push it away. Perhaps…

Elireth woke to the sound of the dawn chorus. It was about four in the morning and she was lying in a low, comfortable bed in a treetop house. Through the carven arches of three huge, glassless windows, a dim, green light was beginning to permeate the darkness. Elireth looked to her left where the shadow of something rested against the wall. It was a huge bow of Lothlorien, and beside it a decorated quiver with buckles to match the one at her breast. Her heart pounded.

Then, scarcely to be heard above the song of the birds, the sound of another song came floating through the morning air:

_Grey ship, grey ship..._

Elireth got up and went to the window. Legolas was leaning on a great branch, looking out to where, doubtless, his keen eyes could descry the Anduin as it flowed towards the Sea. There was a faint rustle of leaves, and then a second voice was heard.

"Beware, Legolas. Fond as we all are of the maid of Arwen, one loss to the Elves in an age of this world is more than enough to bear."

Instinctively, Elireth shrank back into the shadows. The voice was that of Hithuiel, an Elf-maiden with whom Elireth had often shared a dwelling-place on these visits, and learned much from her of the ways of the forest. But she had never known her to have any especial friendship with Legolas.

"There is nothing to beware," Legolas replied. "My heart is no longer for anything here, save my loyalty to the Fellowship. Sometimes I think I can hear the sound of distant song calling my name from the Lonely Island. I will never rest until my feet are planted there."

"And there we will all follow you, even as we promised," said Hithuiel. "But are you sure this is the truth? If you love her, you should confess it."

"I do love her," said Legolas, "but not as you mean. I pity her. The lives of Men are as those of butterflies, and their hope and future lie ever in their children. I would have her wed before the age of her kind comes upon her and she grieves to die childless, but her stubbornness never leaves her. I read it in her eyes."

"May the stars shine upon her face," said Hithuiel. "But, indeed, the light even of the stars would fail were we to lose you."

"I promise you will never lose me," said Legolas and, even in the dim morning light, Elireth was certain he laid a gentle hand on Hithuiel's pale cheek.

She sank down onto the bed, shaking with emotion. He pitied her! He would have her wed! It was too much to be borne! She had endured ten years of unrequited love because she thought at least that there was no other, that their friendship was somehow special. But evidently this was not so. Of course, Hithuiel would still be young and beautiful in a thousand years while she, Elireth, could lose her bloom in a mere decade. Perhaps he could hardly wait to cross the Sea so they could be together in peace. It was all a joke. She hated herself for loving him. Bitterly, she thrust the downy pillow over her head.

_NB: Full lyrics to the Song of Mirkwood are on my website, Hidden Grove._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

If Elireth had learned anything as a handmaiden, it was how to put a brave face on things. So she spoke not a word of her turbulent feelings to the Elves when they came to bring her to breakfast. However, when the meal was over, Elireth and Legolas sat alone in the Grove, beneath the shade of the same oak tree which had shaded them the previous night. The wind was stirring the green leaves and the grass. Legolas lifted up his head and smelled the air.

"The Sea is restless," he said. "Alas for these Woods in the years to come. For the woods are dwindling and the abode of the Elves with them. Our days fail, as the last leaves of autumn, and the Sea calls us home."

"The woods would not dwindle if the Elves left them not," said Elireth, impatiently. "But perhaps they do not care that the world darkens without them."

Legolas looked at her in surprise.

"Would you deny us our home and a rest from our labours?" he said. "But you are young. The time will come when you, too, tire of Middle-earth and long for the release of death. But where is the release for those who die not, unless in the grey ships?"

"I am young, am I?" said Elireth, kicking at the soil. "But not as young as I was. And, in a few short years, I will be old. Will I follow you to this Grove then, when I am too stiff to climb, when you have to lift me from my horse?"

"Elireth, what is wrong?" said Legolas, gently.

But Elireth jumped to her feet, struggling to find the words.

"What is wrong?" she repeated. "I have thrown my life away on foolish passions and gained nothing in return. Nothing. I was better off with the Healers."

Legolas stood up beside her and took her hands.

"You chose this fate for yourself," he said. "I knew this path would bring sorrow and loneliness but you would walk it."

"I was a child!" she retorted.

"But no one holds you to it," he continued. "If you wish to wed with one of your own kind –"

A burning passion rose in Elireth's breast, and she snatched her hands away.

"I do not wish to wed my own kind!" she cried in a voice that did not seem her own. "I wish to - I wish for you to - Oh, what does it matter what I wish? My mother said long ago that the Elves were cold, soulless creatures who only appeared to mortals to drive them mad, and I should have listened to her!"

The look of pain and indignation on Legolas' face was unbearable, but Elireth was now beyond control. She tore the pendant from her neck and cast it violently to the ground.

"Take back this meaningless token!" she shrieked. "It is nothing to me now, as it evidently is to you!"

Then, to avoid another encounter with those burning eyes, she fled the Grove, running up the ladder with the agility borne of a tormented mind.

"Do not follow me!" she shouted from the top of the flet. "Do not even attempt to follow me!"

She gave a loud whistle and her horse came running to the foot of the tree. Lightly, she leaped onto its back and seized the reins.

"_Noro lim! Noro lim!_" she cried to the Elven steed, and its hooves thundered out of the Woodland as hot tears scalded her cheeks.

Elireth's tears were cold and her very bones were chilled as the horse cantered tirelessly into the night. Ithilien was now far behind. For nothing would she return to Emyn Arnen and face the King and, especially, the Queen. Neither would she return to Minas Tirith to make feeble excuses to the lower servants. So it was the opposite direction she was taking, riding heedlessly along the Great West Road. It was now the King's Highway and anyone she met was unlikely to stop or question the maidservant of Queen Arwen but, had they done so, she could not have made a satisfactory answer, as she did not know where she was going. She needed a friend, someone to offer her comfort and conversation without too many questions asked. Someone also to offer her food and shelter so that she would not have to spend many nights like this one, hoping to reach the cover of trees before she collapsed where she sat. Suddenly, a face appeared in her mind and, miserable as she was, she almost smiled. Of course: Gimli. With fresh energy, she spurred her horse towards Rohan.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

At the mouth of the Glittering Caves, two Dwarves with blue hoods and black beards stood and listened intently as a sound of galloping hooves and tinkling bells drew nearer.

"The Elf is back again," said one.

"Nay. The Elf does not use harness," said the other.

"Those are Elf bells. Mark my words," said the first Dwarf, insistently.

The two Dwarves stepped a little further out and peered into the sunlight in time to see the magnificent form of a beautiful grey palfrey come sweeping around by Helm's Dyke, the blue mantle and dark hair of its rider thrown back in the wind.

"By the beard of Durin, an Elf-maid! Wonders never cease," said the first Dwarf, as the horse and rider approached and made a halt just before them.

"I am _not _an Elf," said the rider, irritably, as she dismounted, "and it would pay you to remember it, Master Dwarf!"

"That is an Elf steed," said the Dwarf, undaunted.

"Great are the observational powers of the Dwarves," she replied, sarcastically. "I would speak with your Lord, Gimli son of Gloin. Tell him it is Elireth of Gondor."

The second Dwarf bowed and retreated into the Caves. Elireth pushed the reins into the first Dwarf's hand.

"If you know so much about Elf steeds," she said, "you can take care of this one."

And with that, she swept past him and followed his companion into the Glittering Caves.

As the Lady of the Wood had once predicted, Gimli son of Gloin had become both rich and influential, even in ten years of Men. The Glittering Caves he so loved were now his domain and here he sat, in the middle of a lamplit cavern, the sparkle of a thousand facets refracting from the wall and ceiling. He rose to his feet as Elireth entered.

"Elireth, my dear," he beamed. "All is well in Gondor, I trust? Aragorn? The gracious Lady Evenstar?"

"Yes, yes," said Elireth, hurriedly. "It is not in the role of a messenger that I come."

Gimli looked at her pale face and travel-stained clothing with his shrewd eyes.

Then why have you come?"

"Because I am sick to death of the bloody Elves!" she announced.

In spite of her obvious misery, Gimli threw back his head and laughed.

"We've all been there!" he cried, uproariously. "We can all sympathise with that, every one of us in these Caves! But I thought it would take more than ten years before I heard it from your lips, Mistress Elireth!"

Then his face softened and he came towards Elireth and took her arm.

"But we will not discuss your problems just yet," he said. "It takes some doing to run the steeds of – those creatures we shall not name – into the ground, but you have almost done so, if reports be believed. And you do not look so lively yourself. Good beef and good ale; that's what's needed to put the colour back into those pretty cheeks. But first, a bath and a change of clothes, I think. There are some women in this place somewhere, though doubtless you will not distinguish them from the men."

He clapped his hands and more Dwarves appeared from other caverns, who were soon preparing everything necessary for Elireth's comfort. As they led Elireth away to change, Gimli looked at her with an encouraging wink.

"After dinner," he said.

Elireth pushed away the empty plate and pulled the stool nearer to the fire, drawing the borrowed cloak around her. As promised, the Dwarf-women, who had indeed been indistinguishable from Dwarf-men, had taken Elireth to bathe, while other Dwarves had sent to Helm's Deep for clothes befitting her stature and a stable for her horse. The clothes turned out to be those of an adolescent boy, but this did not trouble Elireth and she now sat, warm and well fed, with her wet hair hanging in straight lines down her back. Gimli sat on the opposite side of the table, drinking from a large tankard.

"Now, forgive an old Dwarf his curiosity," he said, "but when the handmaid of Queen Arwen arrives here unannounced, saying she's sick to death of the Elves, I have to ask why."

Elireth examined the bones on the pewter plate and said nothing.

"Then may I infer," said Gimli, more gently, "from the absence of a certain ornament, that this sickness is due to one Elf in particular?"

Again, Elireth did not speak, only now she knew she could not trust her voice.

"There is no shame in it," said Gimli. "Believe me, my dear, many's the time I could cheerfully have wrung his neck – if only I could have reached it! The things he has said about my beard don't bear repeating. And, as for that walking forest," he shuddered, "I still have nightmares when I think of those eyes! But, at the bottom of it all, I love him." He looked at Elireth. "And so do you."

Elireth tried in vain to swallow back the tears.

"But what is the use?" she sobbed. "I am not of his kind. I will have to watch myself grow old and useless while he remains young and strong with the rest of them. If only I could take the ships, Gimli. If only there was a chance that, on some other shore, we might be together, free from the restraints of mortality or immortality. But it is forbidden and, even were it not, what would be the use when he – "

Her voice trailed off. Gimli reached to his jewelled belt and unclasped a glittering object that hung there and held it up to the light. Like a prism of crystal it was, decorated with gold and mithril and, within it, three golden strands.

"The hair of Galadriel," he breathed. "How I have longed each day of these ten years that I might gaze on her beauty again. I would not be parted from Legolas any more than you would, Elireth and, if he could take me to where I could pay homage to the Golden Lady one more time, I would give up the wealth of these Caves in a day. But a Dwarf in the Blessed Realm of the Elves?"

"You are unique, Gimli," Elireth replied. "A Dwarf who is an Elf-friend and a hero of the War of the Ring. You are a treasure greater than any here. Legolas will never be parted from you, and I know he would see anything done that you might worship the Lady again. But, as for me, I am not wanted. I was a fool to think I could ever mean anything to an Elf like Legolas. I have overstepped the mark this time, Gimli, insulted him and abused his hospitality. Our friendship is over."

"Nonsense," said Gimli, replacing the prism and reaching for his pipe. "If he comes not within one day, I shall tear out my beard!"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

For the second time in as many days, a rider on a magnificent steed swept past Helm's Dyke and towards the Glittering Caves. But this time it was Gimli himself who stood at the entrance.

"You return once again, friend Legolas," said Gimli, as the Elf approached. "Only this time I have the advantage of you. For one thing, I know why you have come, and for another, I can tell you that the mortal has outridden you. She arrived yesterday."

Legolas smiled grimly at his old friend as he dismounted.

"But she did not pass through Minas Tirith, Emyn Arnen, Edoras and Helm's Deep on the way," he replied. The was deep sorrow written on his fair face and even Gimli could not guess what pains this journey had cost him.

"Come in and drink a glass of wine," he said. "My ale is infinitely better, but I know you would only turn your nose up at that. My people will arrange stabling for your horse. Dear old Arod! Who would have thought he would still be so fit? It must be your influence."

"In one thing you never change," said Legolas, patting his friend on the shoulder. "Your conversation is as tedious as ever!"

And together they walked into the Caves.

Meanwhile, Elireth lay huddled beneath a rough blanket in a dimly lit grotto. She had cried herself into a fitful sleep yet again and had woken, unsurpisingly, hoarse and heavy-eyed with a blinding headache. Though it was summer outside, the Caves seemed cold and cheerless, for all their jewels, and her stomach churned at the thought of more stodgy Dwarf food. She could not face rising and had sent a feeble excuse to Gimli. He in turn had sent a black-haired Dwarf bearing a jewel-encrusted cup filled with something that foamed and steamed.

"Lord Gimli says drink this," said the Dwarf. "It is an old Dwarf remedy."

Elireth stared at the cup after the Dwarf had gone. The drink smelled foul. She could not even begin to guess what it might contain. What did it matter? What did anything matter, really? Screwing her eyes up, she quickly knocked back the drink and huddled beneath the blanket again.

It could have been three hours or three quarters of an hour later when she heard the door of the small grotto chamber opening.

"Go away. I'm ill," she croaked.

"Yes, I heard you were sick to death of the Elves, so I came to see how long you expect to live," said a voice.

Elireth sat bolt upright in a second. Legolas was standing with his back to her, coaxing the crystal lamps into a brighter glow. As the third one burst into flame, he turned towards her.

"_Elbereth Gilthoniel! _You look dreadful!" he exclaimed. His bright eyes strayed towards the cup. "You haven't been drinking that, have you?"

Elireth shrugged, apologetically. She hardly knew whether to be relieved or terrified by the Elf's presence.

Legolas sat on the end of the bed, drawing his knees up to his chin. Elireth felt his eyes burning into her.

"I… I'm sorry," she stammered. "I said such awful things. Can you forgive what I did?"

"It is forgiven already," said Legolas. "The work of the Enemy was ever to estrange the races of Middle-earth from one another. We must not allow that which is evil to return, when so much has been sacrificed."

This wise answer seemed to highlight Elireth's recent immaturity all the more. She began to feel weepy again.

"I do not with for us to be estranged," she said, hesitantly. "But I… I saw you with Hithuiel. I heard what you said about me."

Legolas looked at Elireth, sadly.

"I regret that you heard our words," he said. "Those who hear themselves spoken of rarely hear words for their heart's ease. I know you will not hear of marriage, Elireth, but it pains me so to see you letting your brief life pass you by. The life of your kind is so short; it should be filled with happiness, not pain and frustration. The time of the Elves is over; the time of your race has now come. Should you not embrace the dawn, rather than cling to the fading shades? And yet – your friendship means so much to me, that my heart almost persuades me to say otherwise. All my years, I have fought creatures of the darkness, and my closest friends have ever been my brothers-in-arms. You have been the only sister, a friendship forged in time of peace. I would grieve to lose that friendship, by whatever means."

"And what of Hithuiel?" asked Elireth, her heart in her throat. "What does her friendship mean to you?"

The questioning look in Legolas' eyes changed slowly to a smile.

"Elireth, are you jealous?" he asked.

The silence was rather telling. The Elf laughed, softly.

"I have know Hithuiel these thousand years and more," he said. "Her lover, Moralph, fought beside me at the Battle of the Five Armies. Yes, and fell beside me," he added, his fair face becoming grave once more. "Do not wish for immortality, Elireth. Hithuiel has borne the pain of his loss for many more years than you have known life, and will do so until he may be restored to us. The love of the Elves is deeper, and their sorrows greater than those of mortal races."

"Then you are not - ?" Elireth could not bring herself to finish the sentence.

Legolas took her hand. "No," he said, quietly. "My people are passing into the twilight. There have been no new attachments of that kind among the Elves for many years now, nor will there be any more, save for your mistress alone, and her loss will be deeply felt, even when ten thousand years have passed in the Blessed Realm."

Elireth thought guiltily about the Queen and how this recent escapade would reflect on her standing at court, not to mention in her mistress' affections. Legolas seemed to know her thoughts for he said:

"Yes, I have spoken with her. She is gravely concerned for you, as are we all. I have come to take you back to her. If you are no longer sick of the Elves." He smiled.

Elireth shook her head.

Then will you receive back this gift?" he said, reaching inside his tunic and drawing out the familiar pendant. Elireth took it from him with a trembling hand.

"Thank you. I thought I would never see it again," she said.

"And Gondor thought it would never see you again," he replied. "We must return there soon. Perhaps this may help for a quick recovery."

He reached into his tunic a second time and handed Elireth a small glass phial of silver crystals.

"Essence of _elanor_," he announced. "I trust you know what to do with it."

"Sprinkle it over a bowl of hot water and inhale the steam," she muttered. "But how did you know…?"

"Perhaps you forget that your mistress is descended from two ringbearers," replied Legolas, standing up. "In the meantime, I will see if your clothes are ready. I cannot return the handmaid of Undomiel dressed as an esquire of the Rohirrim although, I must say, it rather suits you."

He turned to go, and then turned back.

"And stay off that Dwarf poison," he added.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Legolas and Elireth were encamped for the night in the Firien Wood. Elireth was seated on a bed of dry leaves, which Legolas had made for her, combing her long, dark hair. Legolas stood across the small clearing, stroking the horses and watching her.

"Tomorrow I should braid your hair in the fashion of a Mirkwood archer," he said with a smile.

Elireth laughed. In spite of its unconventional appearance, she had taken the outfit of boy's clothes from Rohan with her in her saddlebag and, after the first night's stay in Edoras, had changed back into it for the journey. Legolas had to agree that it was more practical for sleeping in the forest without a tent, but he still kept teasing her about it.

They had left Aglarond the day after Legolas arrived. Elireth hardly knew how to thank Gimli and the other Dwarves for their kindness and hospitality, but the Lord of the Glittering Caves would hear nothing of it.

"It only makes me happy to see you yourself again, my dear," he said. "And no word that passed between us shall ever leave these Caves. A secret told to the Dwarves goes with them to their tombs. We are as silent as the deeps of Kheled-zaram."

"You are a dear friend and I will always love you," said Elireth and, bending down, kissed Gimli on the forehead, at which the old Dwarf blushed and returned to his caverns, muttering to himself in the tongue of Durin.

Initially, they had set off at a steady trot across the rolling plains of Rohan. The weather was warm and pleasant, and they talked together happily, Legolas telling Elireth of how he, Gimli and Aragorn had tracked an orc band across these very plains, in a quest to rescue Merry and Pippin from their clutches. Elireth loved these stories. She was very fond of the hobbits, especially Merry, whom she had nursed to health while still with the Healers. She sincerely hoped the King and Queen would go ahead with their plan to repair North in a few years, so that she might be able to renew the friendship. Legolas had all the storytelling skill of his kindred, and would make the tale all the more vivid by pointing out the exact spot where a vital clue was found or where a particular encounter had taken place.

However, Elireth had noticed that, the further they travelled, the more the pace seemed to quicken so that, although Legolas had at first promised to tire neither Elireth nor her horse, she was certain that the last stage of the journey would be completed in a day. Perhaps he was only anxious to return her to the Queen, but she had also noticed that, on making camp, the first thing he did was to oil his bow and whet his knife, although there was no need for hunting. Both Gimli and King Eomer of Rohan had supplied the pair with more food than they were ever likely to need for such a journey. Even now, as they chatted together before bed, his shining eyes were constantly glancing about him, and Elireth suspected that she alone would be partaking of sleep that night. Something half-forgotten during the trouble came back to her mind.

"Legolas, is there anything to fear in these parts?" she asked. "When we were in Ithilien, I couldn't help overhearing – "

"You overhear far too much for your own good," replied Legolas, looking pointedly at Elireth.

"I know," she squirmed. "But I do speak four languages."

"That is hardly an excuse," he said, coming to sit beside her. "But as nothing, evidently, can be concealed from the maid of Arwen, I must tell you that a shadow is growing North of Ithilien. For some months now, my people have felt it as an evil threat upon the edge of our mind, but last week orcs and other creatures of darkness were sighted by our lookouts. They are gathering around Cair Andros under cover of darkness, stray creatures who survived the fall of Mordor and have lain in hiding. How large or small a threat they are with no Master to command them, we do not know. We wait on the counsel of Aragorn. But I will take no risks with you, Elireth. I do not think we will have sight of them tonight, but I will watch over you nonetheless."

He stroked her hair with his long, pale fingers and went back to his post, as Elireth lay down on the leaf bed. She understood plainly now: Legolas loved her as one loves a dear, sweet child not expected to see adulthood, but she loved him as a woman loves a man, and she trembled at his touch.

As Elireth expected, the third day of the journey began early, and they were riding South-east towards their homes as the sun rose, golden in her summer glory, above the distant mountains. Elireth blinked helplessly as its beams shone low through the cloudless sky, and trusted to her Elven horse, but Legolas looked ahead with the clear vision of his kind. To their right were hills, hills as far as the eye could see; to their left, a plain, and beyond that Anduin, the Great River, with its tributaries flowing towards it.

"Beyond that lies the Nindalf marsh that is called Wetwang in the Common Tongue," said Legolas. "And beyond that, the Dead Marshes." He shuddered. "It is from there that they have come, I am sure. It is an evil place, and it will take more than ten years of Men ere it is cleansed."

He whispered something to Arod, and the beast shot forward like a thunderbolt. Only by chance was Elireth quick enough to spur her own steed on to keep up with him. They rode on side-by-side in silence, their hair streaming out behind them like banners.

The pace had hardly abated by dusk, as Legolas led the way around the North side of the Druadan Forest, keeping to the road for speed's sake, until they reached the part with the best access for the Hidden Grove. Suddenly, a blood-curdling shriek came ringing across the plain. Legolas wheeled his horse round in an instant. By the time Elireth had done the same, the Elf already had an arrow on the string. His face was set, grim and deadly, his eyes like two cold sparks. Elireth had never seen him like this before. Indeed, as she now thought, she scarcely knew him at all. This was how he had been before the Gates of Mordor, while she had lain sick in Minas Tirith but, as he had said, she had only known him in peacetime, in woods and gardens and idle moments. Of his true self, she had little notion.

There was no time for musing, however. She now saw what was in his sights. A small band of orcs, mostly of the larger kind, along with a couple of wargs and one hideous creature for which Elireth had no name, were running across the plain in their direction. One of the orcs already lay dead and, as she looked, a second arrow from Legolas' bow felled the biggest warg. The survivors were clearly incensed and came on at a tremendous pace. They cried out in harsh voices, a fell din from which Elireth could discern, in the Common Tongue, the words, _Death to the Elves! Death to the Wood Dwellers! _Elireth was transfixed. Only from the safety of the city walls had she ever seen such creatures and here she was, unarmed and unskilled in the arts of war, as the black arrows of the orcs flew overhead. The bow of Legolas sang in her ear. The horse stamped and snorted, and Elireth struggled to control her.

"Get down!" cried Legolas.

Elireth tried to lie as low as possible, but for nothing would she dismount in the face of the oncoming attackers. She felt useless and in the way. Every way she rode was the wrong direction.

"Elireth!" called Legolas and, riding alongside, he reached out his hand and pulled her onto Arod behind him. She held on tight, ducking to avoid being cut in the face as an arrow was drawn from the quiver with Elven rapidity. Instead, she closed her eyes tightly and wished that it would end. Suddenly, she felt herself falling. She hit the ground with a tremendous thud and lay there, dazed and winded. The world swam. The cries of the orcs faded and disappeared.

Elireth opened her eyes. The clouds flew by across a red sunset. The horses were running in circles, riderless.

"Legolas!" she gasped.

Instantly, she sat up and looked around. What she saw made her blood freeze to ice in her veins. Legolas was lying beside her, his beautiful face drip-white, his half-closed eyes devoid of their starlight. Three black arrows were sticking from his chest. He was dead.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The whole of eternity came and went by in a minute. Legolas was dead. This simply could not be. After all the agony she had suffered about his being of immortal kind, now he lay lifeless beside her while she lived on. After all the tears she had shed for herself, now not a single tear would come. Elireth began to rock, agitated, her eyes staring wildly ahead, her fingernails tearing at the grass. She was pulling up great lumps of grass and soil, watching it fall through her fingers with staring eyes.

Suddenly, she stopped and looked clearly. There, in the palm of her hand, lay a small, lavender-like plant bearing a red and a white rosebud. Bond of Love! Even here it was growing. Elireth stared at it as though her eyes would burn a hole in her palm. And, as she stared, it seemed that the tiny flower became another tiny flower seen of old, drawn with inks upon an ancient parchment. And beneath it, in an elegant Gondorian script, a rhyme of lore. And this time she could read it:

_By union of life and death_

_The Bond of Love, ye Elves and Men,_

_Shall spring up from your mingled blood._

_And if ye shall unite again,_

_With lovers' kiss or true oath's breath,_

_Then call forth life from flower or bud,_

_For love is mightier than death._

_Then call forth life. _So that was the healing property it possessed! When a bond of love existed between Elves and Men, then the plant could revive the dead. Was that what the rhyme really meant? Elireth snapped back into life. She was going to try it anyway! Crawling round on the ground, she picked as many Bond of Love plants as she could find and then crawled back to where Legolas lay. Her head was quite clear now. She pulled Legolas' knife from its sheath and cut open his tunic. Then, just as if she were back in Healing House Number Three, she pulled out the arrows, crushed the petals in her hands, and rubbed them into the wounds, silently mouthing every blessing of Elves and Men that she could remember. She looked into Legolas' face. Nothing had happened.

_With lovers' kiss or true oath's breath. _Was that part to be taken literally? She and Legolas had never sworn an oath, and they had certainly never kissed. Could she do it now? Elireth hesitated, her heart pounding as she held the Elf's exquisitely fair face in her gaze. For ten years, she had longed to do this but, now that the moment had come, it seemed somehow wrong, sacrilegious. No. To save his life, she had to do this. She bent her head, her long hair tumbling down around them both, and placed a tender kiss on his lips.

Elireth's heart surged with a feeling of immeasurably sweet relief. She kissed him again. And again. And then it seemed to Elireth as though Legolas was kissing her too, as though they were locked in a lover's embrace. And the songs of Mirkwood were pulsing through her veins. And the silver light of the stars was shimmering around them both.

She opened her eyes. Legolas was sitting up, a questioning gaze in his starlit eyes.

"Elireth?" he breathed. "Then I am not dead? I thought I sat in the Halls beyond the Sea."

Elireth held out the tiny bloom in the palm of her hand.

"No," she said in a choking voice. "You are not dead. I remembered the rhyme of lore."

"What did it say?" asked Legolas.

Tears quivered in Elireth's brown eyes.

"I'll tell you later," she sobbed, and burst into tears.

Looking back, the rest of that evening seemed like a half-remembered dream. How long they had sat upon the ground and wept together, Elireth could never say. She knew that they had walked slowly into the forest, leading the horses. They were holding hands, although neither knew why. They spoke little. All Elireth could manage to tell Legolas was that the plant had revived him, and with this he seemed content, or at least it seemed enough for the present, for both were preoccupied with many thoughts of their own. They entered the Grove silently and, although the songs of the other Wood-Elves could be heard in the trees, strangely not a glimpse of them was to be seen. The horses were left to graze and they climbed together to the very same tree house in which Elireth had found herself the morning she ran away. Legolas lay down on the bed without a word and fell instantly into a sweet, Elven slumber, dreaming with open eyes. It was scarcely to be wondered at. Despite his courage and natural propensity to swift healing, he had received a mortal wound only hours earlier. Besides which, who could say what was in his mind? He had been on the Other Side, and had been recalled to life. What that must be like, Elireth could not even begin to imagine.

She took a rosemary-scented cushion and went to sit in the frame of one of the great, arched windows, pillowing her head against the carven timbers. In a sense, she had been on the Other Side herself. Exactly what had happened when she kissed Legolas, she could not say. That Legolas had no conscious idea of what had transpired, she was certain. And yet she knew how it had seemed at the time. And she felt herself changed, different, as if she had never truly grown up until this moment, this very moment, with the soft, summer stars twinkling through the dark leaves and the scent of rosemary in her hair.

When Elireth awoke, she was lying on the bed with her cloak for a blanket. Legolas was gone. Shafts of yellow sunlight were shining through the windows and the singing of the Elves had changed to a jubilant anthem, repeating the words: _Elessar, Undomiel. _The King and Queen had arrived.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Somehow, Elireth knew that it would happen this way, that by the time she was correctly attired and presentable, however much she hurried, that the Grove would be empty, save for a solitary figure, whose black hair and lilac gown rippled gently in the morning breeze. Elireth did not know how she was ever to face the gentle, yet inscrutable, gaze of Queen Arwen. She bowed her head and made a deep curtesy, almost to the ground.

"My Lady," she said humbly.

"My poor child," replied Arwen, cradling Elireth's cheek in her gentle hand and raising her slowly to her feet.

As the eyes of the mistress met those of the maid, it seemed to Elireth that the Queen was surprised by what she saw. Those dark, starlit eyes, in which sat the wisdom of Elrond, looked intently into those of her handmaiden with a deep, questioning look.

"Come," said Arwen. "Let us sit. You must tell me all that has happened."

Elireth felt nervous. "Where is – everyone?" she said, glancing around.

"The King and Legolas were very keen to speak together, regarding the recent orc troubles," said the Queen. "But that need not concern us. It will soon be dealt with. No Shadow can long abide in the dawn of this new Age, nor will any great threat return for many long years to come. But it is of you, Elireth, that we should speak. Not of your ill-considered flight, for that also is dealt with and shall be forgotten, but of what took place when the orcs attacked, for I see in your eyes and in the eyes of Legolas that some momentous change has taken place."

The words of the Queen were balm to Elireth's soul. She was forgiven; she was safe; she was able, even encouraged, to speak of the very things which were now foremost in her mind. And so, the next hour saw her seated upon the ground with her head in her mistress' lap, as Arwen stroked her hair and listened with great interest to all she had to say. At length, Elireth sat up, and Arwen once more gazed intently into her eyes.

"Now I see all," said the Queen. The name of Bond of Love was spoken in the halls of Rivendell, but even the very wise know not what its effects may be, for I do not know that its powers have ever been tested until now. I see a light in your eyes which was not there previously, somewhat akin to the light of my own people."

Elireth started.

"Nay, you have not changed race," said Queen Arwen with a smile. "No herb, however potent, could affect that change. But what passed between yourself and Legolas has changed you, Elireth. You are a true Elf-friend now, and it may be that you have been granted the life of the _Elendili _of old, even as Aragorn. You _may _have," she reiterated. "Only time will tell."

"But, Lady Arwen," said Elireth. "I must ask this one thing. When we – when I – did he kiss me or was that just a dream?"

Arwen took both Elireth's hands in her own.

"You must remember, Elireth," she said, "Legolas has sat in the Halls of Mandos. For one who has been in Aman, however briefly, the desire to sail the Straight Road will always be uppermost, an even stronger passion than it was before. This I read in his eyes above all. But I also read that he has been changed, even as you have. That you have affected one another, I cannot deny. But, if his feelings for you run deeper than he admits, and I cannot say with any certainty that they do, then he will never be consciously aware of it. I was not there when this incident occurred, Elireth; neither did I foresee it. There are some questions which it is not wise to ask."

Elireth bit her lip.

"And does wisdom forbid that I cherish this moment forever and pray to relive it eternally when I die, be that day near or far?" she asked.

The immeasurable beauty of Arwen's Elven features lit up as she smiled lovingly at her maid-in-waiting.

"I think it may be permitted," she whispered.

That night, as the last embers of the feast-fire died away, Elireth sat alone in the Grove. At a distance, Aragorn and Arwen walked hand-in-hand beneath the trees, singing in harmony a song of Lothlorien. High above in the branches, different but yet not discordant, the sound of Elven harps could be heard. She looked up to the canopy and then saw that Legolas was sitting above her, on the very same flet where she had seen him on the first morning of her visit. He waved to her, and quickly she climbed the rope ladder and came to sit beside him.

"I never thanked you," he said, "for saving my life" and, as he spoke, he handed her a tiny red-and-white flower: Bond of Love.

"Thank you," she said, taking the flower and smelling its delicate fragrance, "but I only did what any of your friends would have done. And, after all the trouble I put you through, you may have preferred it if I had left you dead!"

Legolas laughed and put his arm around her. And they sat without speaking, listening to the night-speech of the forest and the music of the harps. In time, Legolas began to sing in his soft voice, taking up the melody with words in his Woodland tongue. Yes, thought Elireth, there were some things which it was not wise to ask, and some which it was not wise to tell. Legolas would never know what had truly happened, but the secret was hidden in her heart and it would take her on through her new life. For this was a new beginning, and the stars of Elbereth were shining in the heavens, and her friend was by her side.

THE END.


End file.
